"Nope, I never teched her," replied the squatter; "but I will beat her,
if she don't do what I tell her. No matter how she kicks ag'in' my
notions, she has to do 'em, Granny!"

"Yep, I know that; but I asked ye what she was a blubberin' about."

"'Cause I says as how on Saturday she's got to go and be Lem's
woman--that's what I says."

"Lem's woman! Do ye mean that she's got to go away?"

"Yep, with Lem Crabbe," replied Cronk; "he's to be her man on her next
birthday. I bet he brings the kid to his likin'!"

"Lem's a bad man, Lon," replied Mrs. Cronk, "and ye be one, too, if ye
be my own son, and Flea's your own flesh and blood, and I like her. It
would be a good thing if ye let her stay to hum while I be a livin'; and
I mean what I say, and I'm yer mammy, and that's the truth!"

"Mammy or no mammy," answered Cronk sullenly, "Flea goes to Lem, and ye
makes her a pork cake, which she can hog down at one gulp, for all I
care--the damn brat! I say it, and Lem says it. He'll dry her tears
after she's left hum, I'm a guessin'!"

Seeing the futility of arguing the question, Mrs. Cronk placed the fish
and beans on his plate and, with a shrill cry to Flea and Flukey, sat
down to eat.

* * * * *